


The Candles of Imbolc

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-03-08
Updated: 1999-03-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 17:48:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11131767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: With the approach of Imbolc, Fraser & Ray work to change the neighbors' minds about an AIDS halfway house.





	The Candles of Imbolc

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Candles of Imbolc

Imbolc (pronounced Im-MOLG), which takes place from sunset on February 1 to sunset on February 2, is one of the four fire festivals in the Wheel of the Year. Although snow blankets the earth in the Northern hemisphere and the days seem long and dark, underneath Nature is stirring, waking to the coming of spring. In earth-based religions, people celebrate this festival by giving each other seeds and lighting candles to symbolize the light of the lengthening days. 

#  The Candles of Imbolc

### by Diana Read

* * *

Christmas was over. 

Oh, yes, Christmas was definitely over in Chicago, and along with it many of the things that made the season so special: the desire to share with others less fortunate, the warmth of such benedictions as "Merry Christmas!" and "God bless you" falling as softly as snowflakes, not only on one's immediate circle of family and friends, but on humankind in general; and most of all, perhaps, the need to pause for reflection in a year that seemed to race by like a herd of caribou before a hunter, leaving everyone breathless by the time of the winter solstice. 

On a Thursday afternoon toward the end of January, RCMP Constable Benton Fraser became painfully conscious that the spirit of the Christmas season had vanished when Detective Ray Vecchio hung up the telephone on his desk, leaned back in his chair, and said, "Trouble in your neighborhood again, Fraser. This is getting serious." 

"What's the problem this time, Ray? Neighborhood gangs again?" 

"No." Ray looked troubled. "It's more vandalism at the halfway house site. Last week someone stole some of the construction materials that were left there. Then someone painted graffiti on the walls in the middle of the night. This call I just got was from the City Social Welfare Agency--it seems that someone fired bullets into the front porch this afternoon, in a drive-by." 

"Ray! Was anyone hurt?" After more than two years, Fraser still had not come to terms with the casual, mindless violence of the city. Not for the first time, he thought with longing of what he had left behind: the clean, empty vastness of snowfields, the innocence of frontier life in the Yukon and the Territories, where the occasional bout of drunkenness or petty theft was the worst thing that ever happened. 

"No, thank God. The halfway house is empty, because the City is remodeling it for the inhabitants to move in at the end of the month. I guess we'd better go have a look." 

Both men rose, reaching for coats; Fraser put on his Stetson and looked around for Dief. "Come on, Dief. It's time to work off that last chocolate doughnut that Elaine gave you when she thought I wasn't looking." 

At the halfway house, a worried-looking city official, a well-dressed woman with gray hair, greeted Fraser and Ray. "I'm Dorinda Little. Nice to meet you, Detective Vecchio," she said, extending her hand. "And you, Constable Fraser. Let me show you around the place." 

"Any idea who might be behind these attacks?" Ray asked as they followed her through the rooms on the ground floor. 

"I can't say for sure," Ms. Little said, throwing them a glance over her shoulder. "The people in the neighborhood are very much against the idea of Esperanza House. As you may know, it's intended to provide an assisted living facility for AIDS patients. They're all people in whom the disease is active, but they're all under treatment and ambulatory. They need a place where they can manage mostly by themselves, with just a little help with the basic chores of life." 

"Why aren't they with their families?" Fraser asked. 

Ms. Little looked grave. "They're either alone in the world or their families have shunned them, Constable. I hate to say it, but there are still people who regard AIDS patients with fear and loathing. I'm afraid something of the same sentiment is present in the neighborhood." 

"Yeah, well, we'll make some inquiries," Ray said. "We'll get to the bottom of it." 

"Detective, is it possible to have the police watch the place? We're very nearly ready for our first tenants, as you can see. They're supposed to move in next weekend." 

"I'm sorry, Ms. Little. We already have patrols in place, but the precinct doesn't have the personnel to keep a 24-hour guard on Esperanza House." Ray's tone was gentle, but firm. 

As they left the house, Ms. Little turned back to lock the front door. Fraser, preparing to descend the steps of the porch in front of the house, stopped as he noticed the pickets marching up and down the sidewalk. He recognized some of the faces among them: no one who lived in his building, but still--there was Mr. Sperry, the man who ran the newspaper stand across the street; and Mrs. Chartak, the owner of the all-night grocery on the corner; and Mr. Willert and Mr. Lopez, the two men who operated the filling station at the other end. The signs were ugly: "Gays, gays, go away," "AIDS--just because you got it, don't bring it here," and "You brought this on yourselves, you perverts." 

"Oh, dear." Fraser sighed. 

"Yeah. They look like they mean business," Ray muttered. 

"You see what we have to contend with." Ms. Little's voice spoke behind them. 

"Is the City planning to take any action on it?" Ray asked, turning to her. 

Ms. Little shrugged. "We're having a community meeting tomorrow night in the elementary school cafeteria. A lot of people from our agency will be on hand to explain why we decided to locate Esperanza House here. We're trying to get people to come, but I don't know..." 

"Do you have flyers, ma'am?" 

"Yes, we do. Would you like to take some of them around?" Ms. Little peered at Fraser with a hopeful look. 

"Certainly, Ms. Little. We'd be glad to." 

Ray gave Fraser a look. " _You'd_ be glad to, Fraser. I have to get back to the station and file a report." 

"Fine." Fraser accepted a stack of flyers that Ms. Little fished from the depths of her capacious bag, and walked off with Diefenbaker in one direction, while Ray and the social worker went in the other, toward their respective cars. 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

The next night, a Friday, dozens of people crowded into the elementary school cafeteria. Fraser had never seen so many of his neighbors gathered in one place before, not even when they'd picketed City Hall to save their apartments after being threatened with eviction. As people arranged themselves in folding chairs at one end of the room, or leaned against the wall, he counted them: a full hundred. The City officials, a harried-looking lot, spoke one at a time from a temporary podium in front of the room. 

Fraser and Ray, sitting off to one side of the City officials, could see the community members clearly. "Benny, they look hostile," Ray said in a low voice. 

Fraser sat up straight as usual, scanning the crowd. "They may change their minds by the time the evening's over, Ray." 

"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't bet on it." 

Ms. Little's speech was drawing to a close. "And now I would like to invite participation from you, the citizens of this neighborhood. Does anyone have a question?" 

Several hands shot up. Ms. Little looked around and said, "All right, I'll start at this end of the room. Your name, sir?" 

"Ibrahim Mustafi." Mr. Mustafi rose and looked accusingly at Ms. Little. "These people moving in are bad people. God has punished them with the AIDS virus because of their bad life. We don't want people like that here, around our kids." 

Fraser heard Ray snort, then try to change it into a cough. "Benny," he whispered from behind his hand, "who does Mustafi think he's kidding? This neighborhood is full of every kind of low life--crack dealers, pimps, you name it." 

"Please, Mr. Mustafi." Ms. Little's voice was calm, her expression neutral. "These people are unfortunate. Illness is illness, not a punishment. For your information, one of the future inhabitants of Esperanza House is a nurse who accidentally pricked herself with a needle. She contracted AIDS, and has nowhere else to go. Another of our future residents is a young married woman. Her husband contracted AIDS on a business trip, came home, and gave it to her. Another of our residents is an 18-year-old boy, a hemophiliac, who received a tainted blood transfusion three years ago, in another country. This disease can happen to anyone. Any other questions?" 

More hands shot up, and Ms. Little nodded at a young woman in the front row, who clutched a squirming toddler in her arms. "We don't want people with a fatal disease in our neighborhood," the young woman said. "What if our children got it? What if we got it? We don't want to take a chance." 

"I understand your concern," Ms. Little said, "but AIDS is not transmitted through casual contact. It can only be transmitted through an exchange of bodily fluids. The AIDS virus lives only half an hour outside the human body. There is no reason for you to have anything except the most casual contact with the residents of Esperanza House, such as saying good morning, or something like that." 

"I don't believe you," the young woman said. "People are always saying this or that won't hurt you and then years later, it turns out it _will_ hurt you. Look at DDT! Look at cigarettes!" 

"She's got a point there," Ray muttered in Ben's ear. 

"Well, I'm sorry if you don't believe the evidence," Ms. Little said. "It's a well-documented fact that AIDS is not spread through casual contact. If it were, we'd all be down with it, just as we all come down with the 'flu every winter." 

The question-and-answer period continued for another twenty minutes. At the end, Ms. Little, looking exhausted, asked, "Would anyone like to step forward and say a word?" 

"I would." Fraser rose to his feet. "May I?" 

"Of course." Ms. Little handed him the microphone with an air of relief. 

"Thank you kindly, Ms. Little. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." As Fraser stepped forward to the podium, he faced his neighbors and smiled at them all. One or two smiled back. "Thank you for coming to this meeting tonight and demonstrating your interest in our community. If you'll permit me, I'd like to say a few words about Esperanza House." 

He paused for a few seconds, looking around the room. "We've heard a lot of things here tonight about the future residents of Esperanza House, about our feelings toward them, and why some of us wish that Esperanza House weren't to be located in this street. But we haven't said anything at all about how the future residents feel. Have we thought about that? Have we thought about how they'll feel when they come to live here and find they're not welcome? You may know about the acts that have been committed at the housing site: there have been shots fired, graffiti painted on the walls, objects stolen. That's not very welcoming. These people need our compassion and understanding. Aren't we big enough to give them that?" 

Fraser leaned forward. There was a murmur along the back row, but the front rows appeared to be listening. "Candlemas is almost upon us. Some of you may not know about this festival, so I'll explain. In the Old Religion, on Candlemas Eve people used to put a lighted candle in front of every window in their houses. The candles were white, to symbolize the first flowers of the approaching spring. All those lights in the dark winter night meant one thing--that the sun was coming back, that the long, light days of spring were coming closer and closer. In the old days, you see, they didn't know for certain that spring would come: they just hoped it would. 

"Well, Candlemas Eve falls on February first this year. That's a week from tomorrow, when the first residents of Esperanza House will be moving in. Many of you already know that "esperanza" means "hope." Esperanza House is going to give these people hope for a better life: can't we demonstrate the spirit of the season, and show them that we welcome them? Please, when you leave here tonight, think about that. Thank you kindly for your attention, ladies and gentlemen. Have a good evening." 

Fraser bowed and left the podium to rejoin Ray at the side of the room. 

"Nice speech, Benny," Ray whispered. "Ten gets you twenty it went right in one ear and out the other with these guys." 

* * * * * * * * * * * 

The next day dawned cold but clear. Fraser, out for an early morning jog with Dief, went slightly out of his way to pass Esperanza House, hoping he wouldn't see fresh evidence of the neighbors' animosity toward the incoming tenants. 

His hopes were dashed when he saw the sign tacked up on the railing outside the house. "Perverts Stay Out" was lettered crudely in black on a white background. He tested the edge of the wooden board by pulling at it gently: it gave. Encouraged, he pulled harder and the sign came away with a loud crack. Fraser took it under his arm, intending to drop it into the nearest trash bin. Dief looked up at him inquiringly. 

"Dief, we have to do something. I know you think it's a free country and every pack has a right to its own opinion, but this is interfering with the rights of another pack." 

Dief wagged his tail; then, evidently bored, ran ahead to sniff an interesting trail left by another member of species _canus._

An hour later, after breakfast and some deep thought, Fraser picked up his Stetson and called to Dief. "Come on, Diefenbaker. We're going to the woods for inspiration." 

Dief bounded out of the apartment, down the steps, out through the front door. As Fraser came out of the building, Ray was just emerging from the Riv parked at the curb. 

"Hey, Fraser, where ya goin'? I came by to check out the house, but it looks pretty quiet at the moment. Have you seen or heard anything?" 

Fraser told him what he'd found earlier. "I'm taking Dief to the woods for a couple of hours, Ray. There's something we need to do there. You're welcome to come along, if you like." 

"Okay. As long as it's just for a couple of hours. And besides, how would you get there without me?" 

Fraser smiled. Ray was so American. "We would have walked, Ray." 

Ray snorted, and got back into the driver's seat. "Come on, guys, let's get moving." 

In the woods, the three of them walked further and further into the thicket of bare-limbed trees, across a carpet of fallen leaves that crackled under their thick-soled shoes. 

"Fraser, could I just ask what you're looking for?" Ray's tone was over-polite, as if he were congratulating himself on his restraint. Ben, glancing at him, deduced that what Ray really wanted to say was, "Fraser, what in hell are we doing out here and how long do we have to stay? It's cold!" 

"Certainly, Ray. I'm looking for some water, preferably running water. And then I'll be looking for a nice flat place to start a fire. And then I'll want small twigs and branches, and maybe a couple of small tree limbs, and..." 

"All right, I getcha. We're going camping?" 

"No, Ray. I'll explain later. Ah!" 

Through the trees to the right, Fraser spied the glint of ice. Closer inspection revealed a partly frozen stream near a small clearing. "This will do fine. Now for the fire materials." 

Half an hour later, as flames leaped from the pile of wood they'd gathered, Fraser snapped the blade out of his Swiss Army knife. In the absence of an athame, the knife would serve to cast the circle. "Good! We have all four elements present--earth, water, fire, and air. Now I'm going to cast a small circle and invoke the Goddess Brigit." 

"Briggit?" Ray repeated. "Who's she?" 

"She's the Celtic Goddess of healing, poetry, and metalcraft. She has other attributes, too, but we're not concerned with those at the moment. The point is, next weekend is Imbolc, which is Her festival, and I want to invoke Her protection for Esperanza House." 

Ray rolled his eyes skyward. "Why me? Okay, okay. If I can go through a spiral dance at Samhain, I can do this. Hey, I just thought of something. Can we do this without Dragon Lady? Didn't you tell me she was the High Priestess?" 

"She is," Fraser said. "But she presides over groups. In the Old Religion, everyone is trained to do rituals, not just the priestess. For centuries, a lot of people had to conduct their rituals in solitude and silence, because of the feeling against those who practiced the Craft of the Wise." 

"All right, Fraser. Whatever you say. What do I have to do?" 

"After I cast the circle, don't step outside it. We'll be in sacred space until I close the circle again. And once we feel the spirit of Brigit, we need to concentrate very hard to find out what She wants us to do." 

"Well, now how am I going to find that out, Benny? Does Brigit have a toll-free number to whatever place she's in now?" 

Fraser smiled. "Don't be silly, Ray. The message could come in a number of ways. You might get a mental picture, or you might get a feeling, or words might come into your mind. Or it could come through your sense of smell. " 

"Anything but that! Okay, but...I don't know, Benny. I'm not used to this stuff." 

"Ray...if this seems silly or fantastic to you, just try to _imagine_ that you can get a mental image, or a message in words. Just relax and accept whatever comes." 

Holding his knife, blade pointing toward the sky, before him, Fraser walked around the fire in a nine-foot-wide circle until he came back to the starting point. Then, pointing the knife at each element as he spoke, he intoned: 

_"By the Earth that is Her body_  
By the Air that is Her breath  
By the Fire of Her bright spirit  
By the Waters of Her living womb;  
By all that is above  
And all that is below  
The circle is cast:  
We are Between the Worlds.  
Blessed be."  


"Blessed be," Ray echoed. 

In a short invocation, Fraser asked the Goddess to enter the circle, and then fell silent. He sat down on the ground, signaling to Ray to do the same. Dief sat outside the circle, looking around. 

Breathing deeply of the cold air, spreading his fingers against the cold earth, hearing the tentative trickle of the half-frozen stream as it began to melt under morning sunlight, Fraser felt the peace of the Goddess enter his heart. He closed his eyes, breathing more and more deeply, until he entered into a light trance. Then two words came into his mind, as if a voice had spoken. The voice said: "Plant flowers." 

"Fraser." It was a whisper from Ray. "Is it okay if I talk? I mean, do we have to be quiet like in church?" 

"No, you can speak normally, Ray. What is it?" 

"Narcissus," Ray said in a puzzled tone. "I smell narcissus. And--and carnations. And lilies. Can you smell anything? It's weird. I feel like I've just walked into a flower shop. Frannie used to work in one, and she was always bringing home the stock when it got past the pull date." 

Staring at his friend in delight, Fraser said, "That's it! She has spoken! She told me to plant flowers." 

"Plant flowers?" Ray sounded incredulous. "Where?" 

"At Esperanza House, of course." 

"You crazy, Fraser? The place is sitting in the middle of an ocean of concrete! There's no grass anywhere! How're we going to plant flowers in a place like that?" 

"There's more than one way to skin a walrus, Ray. I have a plan--" 

"Of course!" 

"--and we can do it easily. All we need is permission from the City..." 

"All right. So tell me." 

Fraser told him. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

The following Saturday, February first, found Fraser and Ray at Esperanza House early. Ray held a list, reading quantities and measurements from it while Ben checked each stack of wood planks and box of nails. Both wore jeans and windbreakers against the chill of the morning. 

"I'm glad we did some of this work during the week, Benny," Ray said, folding up the receipt from the lumber store and stowing it in his pocket. "If you hadn't done those measurements and arranged to have this lumber cut according to the specs, we'd never be able to finish on time today. As it is, I'm wondering." 

"Oh, I think we'll be able to, Ray." Ben whistled as he set up the borrowed sawhorse and arranged the nails and planks on it. "Look, if I hold the wood in position and you hammer the nails in, that should work." 

"Okay." 

For a little while they worked in the comfortable silence of close friends, a silence broken only by the sound of hammering, while the rising sun pointed long fingers of golden light at them. Dief wandered around the porch, sniffing the unfamiliar scents and occasionally coming over to supervise the activities of the humans. 

"You know, Benny," Ray said. "I still can't believe I got a message from Brigit last week when you invoked Her. I mean, I don't even believe in your religion, and She sent me a message anyway!" 

"Oh, I'm sure She knows you." Fraser picked up another plank. "Brigit had a holy well in Ireland, and also a holy flame, tended by priestesses. You probably know her better as Saint Bridget. To this day, priestesses tend Her flame at Kildare--only now they're called nuns." 

"Oh, good! So I'm not going to get into trouble for--" 

The relief in Ray's face and tone of voice was so great that Fraser laughed. "Ray, Ray, Ray! We each tread our own path, but all paths lead to the same place in the end. The important thing is to lead the best life you can. Dief, can you pass me the hammer, please?" 

Dief trotted over, carrying the claw hammer in his mouth. 

At nine-thirty they had their first visitor. Gugulami, from Fraser's apartment house, marched up the steps of the front porch and handed a paper sack to each man. "You look so cold, and you're working so hard," she said, in her musical African accent. "I brought you each a cup of coffee and a bagel." 

"Thank you kindly, Gugulami." Fraser smiled at his neighbor. Gugulami was a priestess of the Orishas; the energy field emanating from her was so powerful that he had to step back a pace. He looked inside the sack. "Oh, you even brought a bagel for Dief! How nice of you. He's such a fortunate wolf." 

Gugulami was examining their work with an air of curiosity. "What are you making?" 

"Window boxes," Ray said. "In the spring, the people here will put dirt in them and plant flowers." 

"It's too early to plant anything now, of course," Fraser added. "But we thought we'd get some flowers from the florist shop and put them in the window boxes, just for tonight, as a welcome for the first arrivals." 

Gugulami nodded. "What time are they coming?" 

"About seven, so I'm told," Ray said. 

"It seems strange to start moving in on Saturday evening," Gugulami said. "It would seem more logical to start in the morning." 

"Well, they're behind schedule. They were supposed to start moving in this morning, but with the City having to fill in the bullet holes, and paint over the graffiti, and so forth..." Fraser left the sentence unfinished. 

"Well, it's good what you are doing. I will see you later. Good morning." Gugulami smiled at each of them and then made her graceful progress down the path back to the street. 

By lunchtime a whole crowd had gathered to watch, including Willie, now a suave 14-year-old who dressed in the latest middle school fashion and chewed gum constantly. Fraser welcomed him with a smile of relief. "Willie, could you be very kind and take Dief for a walk? If I make it worth your while?" 

"Sure thing, Fraser. And you don't have to pay me. I heard what you guys are doin' and I think it's cool. Come on, Dief, I'll race you to the park!" 

Word had evidently spread through the neighborhood that the two police officers were spending their Saturday building window boxes to adorn the outside of Esperanza House. Mrs. Rolnick, an old woman who lived on the other side of the halfway house, brought over a basket of rolls she'd just baked. Billie Helen Carter, the woman who ran the hair dressing salon next to the all-night grocery, arrived with a bucket of fried chicken. John and Tim, the two homeless men who panhandled at the street corner during the day, offered to take over the carpentry while Fraser and Ray took a lunch break. 

By four o'clock the window boxes were nearly finished: only a little more work remained. "You know, Ray, that was a good idea of yours, to make the window boxes out of redwood. If we had to paint all this wood and wait for it to dry, we wouldn't be able to carry out the rest of our plan." 

"Benny, if there's some way to avoid work on my day off, believe me, I'll think of it. Nah, I'm kidding. They look pretty good, don't they? You think Brigit or Saint Bridget would approve?" 

Fraser clapped Ray on the shoulder. "I'm sure She would. Come on, let's start clearing up. We only have a couple of hours before the stores close." 

By five o'clock the two men had hammered the last nail, swept up all the wood chips into a bag, and stacked their tools neatly in a cardboard box. "Okay," Ray said with satisfaction. He took a sip of the soft drink that Mr. Mustafi had brought around--somewhat sheepishly--a couple of hours earlier. ("I am sorry for what I said at the meeting the other night," he'd apologized. "I did not understand about Esperanza House." "That's all right," Fraser assured him. "Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Mustafi.") 

Fraser looked at his watch. "Ray, we can just make it to the flower shop to get what we want before six o'clock. Let's go. Dief!" He whistled, and Dief came trotting round the side of the house. 

"I wonder..." Ray said, as they reached the street and turned to look back at their handiwork. "Do you reckon it's safe to go off and leave it like this? We're still investigating the other incidents, but so far we haven't come up with any leads. What if something happens while we're gone? It would break my heart if we came back and found it all in ruins." 

"Let's hope for the best, Ray. Come, we really should get going." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * 

"We ready? Let's go." Ray, shifting the two bundles of flowers in his arms, leaned backwards against the swinging door of the shop entrance so that it fell open, and Fraser, his arms equally full, followed him out. 

"What time is it now, Benny?" 

"Ten past six. Allowing for a fifteen-minute walk from here to Esperanza House, we should get there just in time to arrange these in the window boxes before the first residents arrive." 

"'Mmmm." Ray bent his head to inhale the scent of the flowers. "These smell so sweet--just like out in the woods last week when Brigit sent me that message." 

Fraser, in turn, sniffed the delicate fragrance of the narcissi. "Well, I hope our future neighbors will be pleased. I'm glad we were able to get the white variety." 

The blue-gray dusk of a clear winter evening was just falling as the two men turned the corner into West Racine. They had to pass Fraser's apartment building to reach Esperanza House at the end of the street. As they began to walk the last block, Fraser looked up to check the position of the moon and then stopped short, clutching Ray's arm. 

"Ray, look!" 

Ray followed the direction of Fraser's stare and gasped. In every window of every building on each side of the street, a candle flame burned like a miniature star in the winter dusk. Stunned, they looked at each other and then back at the scene. "The candles of Imbolc," Fraser said, his voice almost a whisper. 

"They remembered," Ray said, his voice full of wonder. "They remembered that tonight is Candlemas Eve." 

Walking fast, Dief trotting beside them, they reached the end of the block, walked up the path to Esperanza House, and turned on the porch light so they could see to arrange the flowers. The light revealed a large poster board sign propped against the front door. On it, carefully lettered, was a message. Fraser read it aloud: 

"Welcome to West Racine Street, Esperanza House Residents!  
Please let us know if we can be of any help to you. Your new neighbors.  


Ibrahim Mustafi  
Gugulami  
Pilar Gomez  
Irene Chartak  
Tom Willert  
Billie Helen Carter  
Bert Sperry  
John Spears  
Tim O'Shaughnessy  
Manny Lopez... I don't recognize any of the other names, Ray."  


Perhaps the season of compassion, of generosity, of hope for the return of the warm, life-giving spring, wasn't over after all. He looked at Ray, whose smile lit up his face, and knew that his friend, like himself, was too overcome with emotion to speak. 

With a silent prayer of gratitude to Brigit, Fraser looked down the street once more, at the windows where the candles of Imbolc twinkled like stars in the winter night. 

**The End**

* * *

**Glossary**

**Athame** \--a dull-bladed knife with a black handle, used in ritual to cast the circle. 

**Brigit** \--Celtic Triple Goddess of healing, poetry, and smithcraft. Known in Scotland as Bride and in Brittany as Brigandu. 

**Circle** \--sacred space used for ritual, created by invoking the four elements and the Goddess. 

**Fire festivals** \--Imbolc (February 1-2), Beltane (April 30-May 1), Lammas (July 31-August 1), and Samhain (October 31-November 1.) These are the cross-quarter days. The other four sabbats are Yule (December 21), Ostara (March 21), Midsummer (June 21) and Mabon (September 21). 

**Imbolc** \--Celtic word meaning "in the belly." Also called Oimelc ("ewe's milk") because February was the lambing season in old Ireland. The Church incorporated this holiday in the Christian year as Candlemas. ****

Old Religion--the religion of the Goddess, also known as Wicca, or the Craft of the Wise. 

**Orishas** \--Afrocuban deities in the Santeria religion, which originated with the Yoruba people of Nigeria. The religion traveled with them to the Caribbean when the Yoruba were brought to the New World as slaves. ****

Wheel of the Year--the changing seasons in which Nature expresses the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth, beginning with Samhain and ending with Mabon. 

* * *

*Copyright January 1997 by Diana Read on all original story content. Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Alliance Communications, or any other copyright holders for DUE SOUTH. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading use without written consent of the author. Comments welcome at. 

* * *


End file.
